


to kill this girl, you have to love her.

by GraceNM



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Consent Issues, Enemy Lovers, F/M, References to Depression, Sexual Content, Smut, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 03:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceNM/pseuds/GraceNM
Summary: Angelus decides to take his own advice seriously. Set in an AU of BtVS Season 7 / AtS Season 4.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning that this is not at all Cangel friendly.

In her dreams, she was kissing him. Angel's scent was all around her and she lifted her arms to hold him fast against her, his weight pinning her to the bed. He tasted so sweet. She moved her mouth against his with urgency, needing to drink him in before it all disappeared.

Too soon, her eyes were opening and she expected him to fade. But she found herself looking right into his face. Not a dream. She gasped and pulled her mouth away, but he kissed her again, undeterred. She let him. She didn't understand why he was here and touching her, but her sleep-hazy body wanted more, more, more. She brought her legs up and around his hips and he ground his hardness against her, growling lightly in appreciation.

He was licking insistently at the scar on her neck and it was sending bolts of pleasure searing through her. He pulled down on the straps of her tank top until her breasts were free and then his tongue was there too, and he pulled one nipple into his mouth and sucked as he rubbed against her core once more.

She cried out and then quickly quieted herself, afraid that if she made noise one of the many people living in her house would come to check on her, and then this waking dream or whatever the hell it was would be over. She gave silent thanks that Willow’s departure had led to the Potentials piling into her room and giving Buffy privacy for once.

Angel continued to slide his mouth down her body, moving her top out of the way to nibble and taste her skin. With a lightning-quick motion, he tore away her panties and flicked his tongue over her center. She gripped his hair, surprised, but still not daring to make any noise. She was already impossibly wet and when he licked her again, going deeper, she thought she might fly out of her skin.

"Jesus, Buff," he said gruffly. "How far are you going to let me go with this?"

Her body went stiff as she realized she was lying completely vulnerable in her own bed, wearing only a tank top wadded around her middle, with a killer poised between her thighs. She felt an icy mix of shame and fear fill her stomach.

She recovered quickly, though, pulling his hair hard and flipping him off the bed. She jumped to her feet and grabbed a stake from her bedside table as he got back up. She tried not to care about her near-total nudity, even as his eyes lingered on her greedily.

"How?” She was unable to resist asking.

He made a face. “That pathetic bastard has a hard-on for your ditzy school friend. Frankly, I thought the whole thing was about as sexy as watching paint dry, but I guess it did the job for him.”

“Angel...and Cordelia?” Buffy whispered, shocked.

“Hate to be the one to tell you,” he said with a leering grin. “I for one would much rather be sliding into you again.”

“Shut up,” she warned.

“Now, don’t pretend it wasn’t good for you. I could taste it.” He rubbed his fingers over his lips. “Never had anything sweeter than you. Than your blood. I was high on it for weeks, you know. Longer.”

“That wasn’t y—“

“Stop kidding yourself,” he said, stepping ever closer. “You knew you were bringing me out. You knew I would take you.”

He was close enough to invade her space now but she didn’t stop him. His voice was low and raw and intimate. "He wanted to die. I wanted you."

She let out a shuddery breath, unable to stop her body from responding to the deep rumble against her ear.

"That's right. Get that pulse pounding for me, baby."

In a flash, he leaned down and nipped at her neck, lightly. She nearly screamed. She pushed him away, gripping her stake tighter as a rush of desire made her ache. He was laughing.

“C’mon, it’s not like you’re going to kill me." He cocked his head to the side. "They called in your little witch. Aren't you going to give her a chance?"

"Don’t count on it," Buffy said menacingly. Of course. That was where Willow had gone. And Willow hadn't even bothered to tell her that a psycho vamp who had long been obsessed with her was on the loose. Did none of her friends have her back?

He chuckled. "Why don't we make a deal? You won't kill me, so I won't kill you. I'll just take another taste."

She rolled her eyes. "How dumb do you think I am?"

"Dumb enough to want it.” He breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring. “You're dripping hot for me."

"Him," she said angrily. "It's only because I thought you were him."

He smirked. "Do it for him, then."

"What?" she managed, her head spinning. Nothing about this was going as she expected.

"You know he'll never fuck you again. He can't. But I can give you any wicked little fantasy your heart desires. And on the off chance little Willow gets the job done... well then, he gets a brainful of memories of being inside you."

"It's not the same," she scoffed.

"Your loss," he said, heading for the door. "I'll just start eating those luscious little girls you've stocked the house with."

She lunged for him, ready to try to knock him unconscious. Anything to stall until Willow could finish the ritual from wherever she was. But he was too quick for her, and while she was able to tackle him to the floor, she was quickly pinned beneath him.

"Buffy," he said softly, tracing her face with a fingertip, and he sounded so much like her Angel that she closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

She was so tired. She hadn't slept well in weeks. Her entire life had spiraled well beyond her control, with ghosts and triggers and betrayal. She didn't want to fight anymore.

When he kissed her, she kissed back.

She did more than that, wrapping her body around him and pulling at his clothes. Before she knew what was happening, he had shed them and was carrying her back to the bed. She cleared her mind of anything but the way he tasted, the way his skin felt, trying to forget that he was anything but Angel. If this was the way she was going out, she was going to make it as good as possible.

He pulled his mouth away from hers to give her a self-satisfied smile. "I knew it was only a matter of time."

She fixed him with a glare. "Not a single one of my wicked little fantasies involves you talking."

His smile grew even bigger. He tossed her down on the bed and grabbed her hips roughly, bringing his mouth between her thighs again, as if they'd never stopped, as if he'd never given up the game. She wondered what kind of new game he was running now. This soulless version of Angel took what he wanted, he never gave. Maybe it was all about making her blood taste better for him. Her stomach turned a bit at the thought but soon she was too distracted by the way his mouth was suckling her to care. She returned her hands to his hair as she teetered on the edge. She hadn't had an orgasm with another person in ages and it was so wrong that he was the one making her feel this way, unglued, undone, but she pretended that it wasn't. Her eyes were closed and all she could see was Angel.

Until he started talking again. "You're too easy, little girl," he whispered, pulling away and leaving her still on the brink.

Her eyes snapped open. He was no longer touching her. He was sitting on the side of the bed, facing away from her. She stared at his back, at the tattoo that first awakened her to what lust really meant when she was 16 years old. She understood that he was baiting her. It wasn't enough for her to give in, to succumb to him. He wanted her to seek him out, to offer herself up.

Vamps were always bragging about the taste of fear and pain. But maybe in her willing gift he had tasted something different. Something he couldn’t get from anyone else, because no one else could love him, even this empty shell of him, the way she did.

She knew what would happen if she went to him. But she needed to keep him pinned down, in the hopes that somewhere, somehow, magic was at work. If she fought him now, he would defeat her easily, quickly. She didn't have it in her to kill him again and he knew it. But this way, she might save the man she still loved. She had decided a long time ago that her blood was a trade she was willing to make for his life.

Or maybe she was kidding herself and it was those words still echoing in her head. _He'll never fuck you again_. She hoped she was better than that, but maybe she wasn’t. She couldn't deny that her body was still on fire, craving his touch. The chemical, physical need between them didn’t fade in and out with his soul. It was a constant. With his back turned to her, it wasn't so hard to pretend she was giving herself to Angel. It was all for him, anyway.

She crawled across the bed to him and brought her lips to his tattoo, tracing it with the tip of her tongue. She trailed her lips upward, pressing her breasts into his back as she bit into his neck. She couldn't suppress a little smile at his hiss of pleasure. But he didn't turn around or try to touch her. She swung around him instead, using all her slayer grace to straddle his lap. Only when she kissed him did he finally began to touch her and she sighed with the sensation of his hands sliding down her body, squeezing her ass.

She was the first of them to get what she wanted, reaching down to guide him inside her. She closed her eyes again. She thought she had idealized this, built it up in her memories until it was too good to be true, but, oh, it was real, the way he felt, the way they fit together. She rocked against him, full to the hilt and overflowing with the intensity of their connection. Even he seemed affected, playing into her fantasy by gripping her tightly and nuzzling against her.

But in the back of her mind, she knew what was coming next. Maybe she should fight it, but denying him would mean losing this, and now that she had it again, she wasn't willing to give it up. She wanted more. She didn’t care what it cost.

She continued to rock in his lap, gripping his shoulders as she let her head fall to the side, exposing her throat to him. He licked again at the scar — his scar — and she clenched around him. She was panting loudly in his ear, knowing her body was urging him on. He didn't seem surprised by her total surrender. He had expected it. But he rewarded her by wedging a hand between their bodies so her every movement hit just the right spot and she lost the last of her ability to be reasonable, to resist the darkest edge of her desire.

"Say it," he said.

She didn't hesitate.

"Take me. Drink me. Please," she gasped out.

"Look at me."

She opened her eyes to see his wicked grin, to watch his face change. "You belong to me," he said against her ear. It was wrong, but her body thrilled to hear those words in his low voice. And then his fangs were sinking into her neck.

She didn't scream. She bit her lip so hard the skin broke. She tasted her own blood as he began to drink.

She remembered this. No, this was better than she remembered. First, the sweet-sharp stab of pain, and then...and then...She couldn’t hold on to a thought, riding a wave of pleasure that was unlike anything else she had ever known. She felt him pulse and spill inside of her as she gave in to her own release. They were a perfect circle of bliss, connected everywhere, their bodies giving and taking from each other in unison. She was so high, so full, she couldn’t breathe. 

But then it was too much. The world began to dim around her. She knew he wouldn’t stop. She had played a dangerous game and she was losing. She felt relief, and tears sprang to her eyes at how messed up that was.

But suddenly he was crying out, pulling his teeth from her neck as he fell backward on the bed. She collapsed with him, too weak to do anything else. The tears leaked from her eyes onto his chest.

“Buffy?” he whispered after a long moment, one hand pressing protectively against her lower back and the other stroking her hair. “I was dreaming about this,” he added slowly, seeming stunned.

She was having trouble staying conscious.

“But not...not the blood,” he said. One of his hands moved away, toward his mouth. “Oh, god, Buffy. What did I do?”

She couldn’t answer. Everything around her was black.

†††

When she woke up, everything was white. Monitors chirped out a chorus around her.

Alive, then. She was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you prefer dark and twisty, stop there. If you want a little something to maybe make you feel better, continue...


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy's neck throbbed and she felt weak, but that was nothing compared to the pain that flashed through her when she saw Angel sitting in the chair next to her bed. He looked grim.

Oh, how he must hate her now. To know what she was willing to do. What she’d _done_.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. She thought she would be red from shame if she hadn't lost so much blood.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Buffy," he said. His face came in close to hers. He was leaning over the bed. "I didn't know...how bad it was. How bad it must be for you to…"

"I wanted...to distract him," she whispered.

"I know what you wanted." He put his hand on her arm. She was so cold that, for once, he felt warm. "I remember the beach, Buffy."

That night. Just after her resurrection. The wind whipping her hair and her voice pleading with him to send her back. To that place she'd been, the place where she was finished, where she could rest.

"I convinced myself that you would be OK," he said. "You've always been so much better than me. And you have your friends."

"Giles says it's all up to me. To save everyone." She closed her eyes. "Had to be strong for them."

"Who's being strong for you?" He let his hand run down her arm to her hand. He clasped it.

"Spike tries," she said. "But he's struggling too. They all are."

"I didn't tell them exactly what happened. But I think Spike figured it out. Threw me for a loop a little, him having a soul, but I’m not in any position to…" Angel trailed off, his expression pained. "Do you want to see him?" He started to turn toward the door.

She gripped his hand as tightly as she could in her weakened state. "Don't go."

"I won't," he said, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "I'm not going to leave you if you want me to stay. But you can't go, either, Buffy. You need to stay with me."

This had to be wrong. The one thing he could never do was stay. "Don't you have to go back to LA?"

"Eventually. But I think they could use a break from me right now. There's a lot going on, but the sun is back out at least. And Faith's out of prison, so she's going to stick around to help Wes and the others."

"Really scraping the bottom of the barrel there," Buffy said with a weak smile.

"Buffy...I want to start spending a lot more time here, if you’ll have me," he said softly, almost shyly. The look on his face made her heart squeeze. "There's no reason we shouldn't be helping each other more, sharing resources, research. And I want to make sure you're...doing OK. It's the least I can do, after..."

Hope fluttered in her chest. Maybe she didn't have to be this lonely, this cold. She had so many questions — about Cordelia, about his soul, about what her friends would say — but he was pressing her hand to his lips and looking at her with such tenderness that she decided they could wait.

So she smiled at him. And then she slept, knowing for once he would still be there when she woke up.


End file.
